by Mara

Summary: A series of unconnected drabbles. Mood, setting, and pairings will vary.

1. It’s Not Easy Being Blue

“Why are blue skin tones so prevalent in mutants?” Hank asked.

“Interesting question,” Kurt said. “Why not hordes of mutants with green or
orange skin?”

“The phenotypical variety of hair color I’ve observed is certainly far greater
than for skin. But I will admit a sense of dismay at the thought I might have
become orange instead of blue.”

“True, true. Blue is somehow more dignified, I believe.”

“We haven’t asked our esteemed colleague his opinion. What do *you* think,
Warren?” Hank asked.

“I think that when Apocalypse turned my skin blue I had to throw out half my
wardrobe.”

2. On the Road Again

“On the road again, I just can’t wait to get on the road again,” Remy warbled,
leaning back in the seat of the pickup as if he belonged.

“Damnit, Gumbo, do you have to sing that song? You’re off-key and your Southern
accent sucks.”

“It’s all part of Remy’s charm. Dat’s why you love me.”

“No, I don’t.” Logan took his eyes off the road long enough to glare.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I…I’m not having this argument with you, it’s idiotic.”

“Whatever you say, mon cher. Can I sing ‘Drop Kick Me, Jesus, Through the
Goalposts of Life’ instead?”

3. Once a Parent

The sounds surprise him–he recognizes those voices. The X-Men burst through the
mansion’s door into a shocking scene: confused students being gathered, Guardian
flying away, holding a screaming Annie and Carter.

The shout comes before he can move, but it isn’t necessary, because he would
have done this anyway.

He streaks through the air, all his being focused on the red and white suit of
Alpha Flight’s leader, previous friendships thrown aside by his most important
rule: Nobody separates parent and child against their will, not while Northstar
has strength left in his body.

“Pour ma petite. Pour Joanne.”

4. When It Was All Over

The sky was gray with particulate matter, and distant fires raged, but the
shouting and shooting and chaos had died down. Now there was just the silence–
heavy with portent, heavy with loss and emptiness.

Scott had fought his hardest, worked past exhaustion into numbness. Now, he sat
in a small room, staring fixedly at a wall, fixated on the contrast between a
charred hole and the pin-up poster of Marilyn Monroe.

It was the morning after the end of the world, and the last man on earth sat in
a room. There was a knock on the door.

5. Monday’s Child

“Monday’s child is fair of face,” Jean-Paul muttered as he surveyed the
conference room filled with mutants.

“Hmm?” Hank looked up from the pad he’d covered with incomprehensible equations.

“Rien.” Jean-Paul sighed, watching recent arrivals Scott, Bobby, and Alex greet
friends and acquaintances, shaking hands and pounding backs. “Merely noting that
the apparent connection between the X-gene and–shall we say–a certain level of
attractiveness, remains in effect.”

Hank blinked and looked around. “You are quite correct. I wonder if that…” His
words trailed off as he scribbled further incomprehensibilities.

Jean-Paul sighed. “Eternal Mondays and not one for me.”

6. After the Labors were Done

Jean always wondered at the naivete of Hercules’ wife, Dejanira–so jealous of a
female slave she used a false love-spell that killed her husband. The story left
many questions unanswered.

How did love become so warped? Why did Dejanira think the centaur who kidnapped
her would give a love-spell with his dying breath?

Hercules labored for many years in the service of the gods, Scott labors for The
Dream. Dejanira trusted the words of an enemy, Jean trusts in the Phoenix.

As she confronts Emma and Scott, the Phoenix rising in her, Jean wonders if
she’s any less foolish.

7. Game Night

Bobby stretched his arms over his head and glanced over at Warren, head was bent
over a chessboard. Across the board, Scott grinned in triumph, arms crossed as
he leaned back in his chair.

Across the room, Ororo and Jean played a cutthroat card game, crowing at
particularly nice plays, and Alex was teaching Cain how to play Apples to
Apples.

Jean-Paul wandered into the room, looking bored. “Bonjour. And how is game night
proceeding?”

“Well, I’ve learned something this evening,” Bobby said, standing up.

“Yes?”

Bobby pointed to his abandoned game. “Never play Scrabble with Hank and the
Professor.”

* * * * *

Apples to Apples is a real game, BTW, and probably my favorite game ever. It’s a
bit hard to find, but well worth the trouble if you like words

8. As You Wish

Logan growled as he opened the lab door, alarming Hank.

“What is wrong, my hirsute and hitherto-unseen-at-these-depths friend?”

Stomping his way around bubbling retorts and churning printers, Logan spared a
moment to glare. “You’ve been working for two days without any real food or even
a damn *nap*.”

Just the word made him yawn, although he tried to hide it.

“Bedtime, bub.”

“I suppose that my experiments will continue without me for a few hours.” Hank
yawned again.

“Damn right they will.” Logan’s hand propelling him out was surprisingly gentle.
“In the meantime, rest well, and dream of large women.”

* * * * *

The title and the last line, as you have no doubt recognized, are from “The
Princess Bride”. The dual challenges on x_men100 were sleep/dreams and movie
quotes. As you can see, I met both

9. A Soldier’s Life

Challenge: What if they weren’t mutants?

* * * * *

James waited outside the bar for his buddies. They were due on base in an hour
and if they were AWOL, Sarge’d go apeshit.

A click made his highly-trained reflexes jump–almost amusing in a civilian
context.

It was a couple out walking and he almost whistled, ’cause the woman was sexy:
red hair, short skirt, high heels. Too bad the guy was a geek with tidy hair and
an old man sweater.

James grinned at her, the feral grin that earned him the nickname Wolverine, and
for just a moment she smiled back. Then she was gone.

Too bad.

* * * * *

For those who don’t know the comics, Wolverine’s real name was recently revealed
in “Origins” to be James Howlett.

10. When Villainy Knows No Bounds

“Scott, I’ve finished scanning Sinister’s files, and you won’t believe it.”

“Hey, Kitty, as long as you don’t say Remy is the long-lost Summers brother, I can handle anything.”

“Well, it has to do with money.”

“Yeees?”

“And how Sinister earns his.”

“Kitty…”

“Remember when your computer crashed and you said Microsoft’s software was an invention of evil?”

“You mean…”

“That was Sinister. Apparently he thought an unhappy and disgruntled population was good for his plans. Then he created and sold the SUV and convinced junk mailers to move to the Internet.”

“No!”

“He also invented the Macarena.”

“You’re kidding.”

* * * * *

This idea comes from Juliana, who told me she liked my drabbles and also mentioned she’d always wondered where villains got their money. So this drabble is for her! (In the sense that I’ve borrowed her idea…)

11. Scenario 241-B

The Professor would be angry, Kitty thought, kneeling in Danger Room. He didn’t
like her practicing without supervision, but…

Today this scenario had beaten her seven times, belying her claim to be an X-
Man.

She could do it. She could.

The center platform rose and Kitty ran up, air made solid beneath her feet by
force of will. A gaudy flag hovered as the room attacked, a robot arm slamming
into her. Breath whooshing, falling, she stretched toward the flag.

“Scenario over,” the computer said.

Alone in her victory, Kitty cried hot tears into the crumpled fabric in her
hand.

by Mara

Summary: Northstar and Iceman chat post-Uncanny 415

NOTES: I don’t generally write “between the lines” fics, but this issue so
desperately called for it, I found myself sitting in bed fiercely scribbling
away while my husband waited impatiently to turn out the light. There isn’t any
sexual content here, but if you’re squicked by the idea that one man could be
attracted to another…you probably shouldn’t be reading anything with Northstar
in it. Thanks once again for the beta to Captain Average, in whose debt I will
be for the rest of my life for all his editing help Oh, I borrowed one line
from issue #415.

* * * * *

Against nurse’s orders, Jean-Paul was wandering the grounds of the mansion when
he saw Bobby.

The dark blond hair caught his attention–a stray shaft of mid-morning light
making it gleam–before Jean-Paul saw the rest of the other man leaning against
a tree, not far from the wrought iron pagoda that had been the site of a battle
several days before. He paused, taking this quiet moment to watch him.

Annie was very perceptive to notice his attraction to Bobby, Jean-Paul thought,
it was not the kind of fact he was accustomed to revealing. It was also true,
the X-Man known as Iceman was hardly his usual type, but something about the
insouciant attitude in the face of danger struck a chord. And the package it
came with was most certainly worth looking at, he thought, eyeing the muscles
that shifted under the uniform of the X-Man.

Mon Dieu, he thought, crossing his arms, Robert Drake is a man, yet nearly
everyone treats him like a boy. He was a boy when he came here, but no longer.
Of course, Jean-Paul had to admit that Bobby helped the illusion by always
playing the joker, the fool.

But in this moment–believing himself unobserved–Robert Drake was a man, one
weighed down by cares Jean-Paul wished he could smooth away. Bobby sat on the
ground, his back against the tree, elbows propped on his knees, chin resting in
his palms. For a moment, he buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking as
if he were laughing…or crying. Jean-Paul took a step forward, but stopped as
Bobby leaned back and pounded his fists once against the tree trunk, staring at
the pagoda in front of him.

His eyes were dry, but his face was resigned and drawn; Jean-Paul felt a pain in
his heart to match Bobby’s, and he found himself walking down the brick-lined
pathway toward the other man.

It didn’t take Bobby long to hear him, and Jean-Paul’s heart sank further as he
watched the mask slip down. The grin that met him was oh-so-adorable, but he
knew it was false.

“Hey, Northstar, I didn’t know Annie was letting you off the leash again.”

“I’m not certain she knows yet,” he admitted, hovering a few feet away in
unaccustomed reticence. Since the explosion and his severe injuries, he’d been
second-guessing himself unusually often.

“Way to go!” Bobby’s grin grew wider. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“There’s a great deal you don’t know about me,” Jean-Paul found himself saying.
He paused and frowned. “That sounded a great deal less cliched in my mind.”

“Hey, ‘sokay, what’s the good of being a superhero if you can’t use a cliché now
and then?” Bobby’s grin was getting strained now. “So, there something I can do
for you?”

Jean-Paul ignored the obvious attempt to get rid of him, looking down at Bobby.
“Are you well?”

“I’m fine. Hey, Annie let me out of her clutches without too much of a fight, so
I’ve gotta be okay, right?”

Jean-Paul arched an eyebrow at the circular logic and, uninvited, sat down next
to Bobby. “What were you thinking about with such concentration?” he asked.

“Huh?” Bobby looked surprised, as if he’d never been asked that before.

“When I approached, you seemed to be thinking thoughts most serious.”

Bobby twitched a little, then tried for his previous grin. “Me? Oh, nothing
much.”

“Of course.” Suddenly annoyed by the whole situation, Jean-Paul gave his most
arrogantly Gallic shrug. “Of course, you Americans always go to the place where
someone has just beaten you into unconsciousness in order to think thoughts of
no consequence.”

Bobby shifted from friendly to angry in an instant, practically spitting out his
words. “What do you care, Mr. French Canadian waltz in here and tell us we’re
losers?”

Well, angry was probably better than indifferent. “I didn’t intend–”

“Bullshit. You loved that Xavier had to beg for your help, that the mighty X-Men
were in such shitty shape that we called you.”

“Again.” Jean-Paul winced as soon as he said it, annoyed to find his usual bad
habits rising to the forefront.

“What?”

“You had to call *again*,” he said, almost apologetically. “I came before when
Jean asked for my help.”

Bobby sneered. “Well, lah-di-fucking-dah, isn’t that special? Do I bow down or
what?”

Jean-Paul looked down at his hands, unsure what to say. He supposed he deserved
this, since he *had* come in with more than his usual boundless arrogance,
pleased in a small way that the X-Men needed his help. And he *had* been

extraordinarily snide and annoying, even for him. But to explain it, the long
history of Alpha Flight and the X-Men, his own feelings on the matter, this was
not possible.

A squirrel ran across the ground nearby, chittering madly, and the two men sat
in silence for a long moment watching it.

“Why are you here?”

The sneer was gone from Bobby’s voice and Jean-Paul looked up. “I am here
because Professor Xavier asked me and the X-Men needed help. Whatever you think
of me, in the end I could not refuse.”

“No.” Bobby shook his head. “I mean, why are you out here right now?”

“I was in need of some time and space to think, so I decided to walk.”

“Out here, where someone had just beaten me into unconsciousness?” Bobby
mimicked his accent.

“Yes.”

The flat reply left Bobby momentarily speechless, and they sat there for a
little while looking at the pagoda, lost in thought. Jean-Paul remembered his
first sight of Bobby being slammed into the ground as he raced toward the
confrontation; his super-speed reduced by injury to what felt like a crawl,
shaking with the fear that he might not get there in time, that someone else
might die on his watch.

“Josette,” Bobby said suddenly, his hands clenched and resting on his knees,
“she…she was using her empathy to control me, you know.”

“I heard her say it.”

“I mean, I don’t normally…and in the hallway…”

“Yes.”

They were silent again for a while, and Jean-Paul fought the urge to put his arm
around Bobby, lean against him, hold him. The other man would certainly not
allow it, not from a gay man, and not from someone he didn’t even seem to like
very much.

Looking out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Bobby staring at the pagoda with a
kind of loathing. Jean-Paul suspected he’d found the root of the problem. “To be
controlled, it is most abhorrent,” he said. “It may be the worst thing that
happens to those of us who join the team, who become a public mutant figure.”

Bobby didn’t say anything, he just continued to stare ahead, one hand straying
to rub the center of his chest. Jean-Paul frowned slightly, wondering at that,
but decided not to push his luck by asking.

“I’m afraid I do not have such an excuse for my behavior,” Jean-Paul said. When
Bobby looked at him in obvious surprise, Jean-Paul found himself flushing a
little–apologies were not something in which he often engaged. “I should not
have been so rude to everyone, when we met at the house in Fort Albany.”

“Yeah, well…we all have bad days.”

“True, but–”

“Look, forget about it. There’s been a good bit of water under the bridge since
then. You were rude, I’ve yelled at you. I’m over it.”

“Yes, water under the bridge.”

A bird twittered on a nearby branch, the same squirrel ran halfway across the
grass, stopping to look at them curiously, and they sat.

“So,” Bobby said diffidently, “I was sorry to hear about the kid you were
carrying back here.”

It was like a punch to the stomach, and it took all Jean-Paul’s returning
strength to say, with equal diffidence, “Peter. His name was Peter.”

“Yeah, Peter. It’s rough when you lose someone you were trying to save.” Bobby
didn’t look at him, just twiddled with a piece of grass next to his boot.

I see his face when I close my eyes, Jean-Paul thought. “Yes, it is.”

“You did your best.”

Not enough, it will never be enough. “The Professor could not stop the
explosions.”

“He told me you stayed with Peter at the end, instead of flying away.”

“Yes.” Peter’s face, bleeding, scared, begging for reassurance he could not
give. ‘I’m going to die this time–aren’t I?’ Jean-Paul closed his eyes
momentarily, then caught onto a distraction. “You spoke of me with the
Professor?”

“He really wants you to stay, and I think he’s worried I’ll annoy you outta
town.”

“I do not think that is likely.”

They sat a little longer, the silence now more companionable than uncomfortable;
in the distance, the sounds of the school started to drift toward them, the
laughing and shouting of the teenage mating dance, a basketball thudding on
pavement, even the unmistakable *bamf* of Kurt in a hurry to get somewhere.

Bobby started to fidget a little, and Jean-Paul sighed to himself at the
approaching end of this interlude. He would likely never get another chance to
speak with Bobby in such a forthright manner, and he was certain Annie would
urge him to tell the other man how he felt, but he knew she was wrong.

It was easy for a woman with a romantic heart to urge him to say something, but
what did she expect him to do? In his considerable experience, men who were
straight–and controlled by Josette or not, Bobby *was* straight–did not take
kindly to declarations of undying affection.

Jean-Paul ached bone-deep–in a place that medicine couldn’t touch–as Bobby
jumped up from the ground and took a few steps away.

“Hey,” Bobby said, pausing and turning to look back at him, “we never did get
that meal I promised, and it’s about lunchtime. You hungry?” The engaging grin
was back, a bit more genuine this time, if Jean-Paul was any judge–and he’d
become a veritable connoisseur of Bobby’s smiles in recent days.

“I do believe I *am* hungry,” Jean-Paul said as he carefully stood, glad he’d
regained an echo of his usual grace.

“C’mon then, or the only thing left’ll be the meatloaf.”

Take what you can get, Jean-Paul told himself as they walked back toward the
mansion. Just take what you can get.

–end–

by Mara

Summary: A day in the life of Ultimate Professor Xavier’s cat.

NOTES: This is a response to the Ultimate X website
(http://ultimate.comixtreme.com/home.html) Fan Fic Challenge: “A Day in the Life
of Ultimate Cat.” More challenges, please, this was *fun*!

************************************

I have read enough narratives to know the rules for telling a story properly.
But really, did you expect a cat to follow the rules? I thought not.

So, I will tell you about myself, but there are things I simply cannot explain.
Either because humans (and I include mutants in that category) are not ready to
believe them, or because I doubt you will understand.

In any case, I am the cat who has been living at the school for the past year.
My name? Hmm, I don’t have one in the sense that you mean. You may call me Cat,
if you like.

As I was saying, I was assigned to this school to assist and protect the young
mutant students.

Now, please don’t remind me of the Weapon X fiasco. That may possibly have been
the worst failure of my career and I doubt I will ever live it down. I tried to
warn my charges something was wrong, but it was too little, too late. Scott
heard me, but not in time to take effective action.

How did I warn them? Well, obviously I used the same telepathy I’m using to
speak to you. I certainly wasn’t playing charades.

I am a combined telepath and empath, and my mission is to try and keep these
youngsters emotionally healthy, (preferably without revealing my presence to
them). It’s a monumental task, as I’m sure you’re aware. Even normal teenagers
generate enough angst to power a small city. Super-powered teens? Let us just
say they keep me busy and leave it at that.

I know you thought I spent most of my day sleeping, but that is not the case.
Perhaps if I describe a representative day in my life, you will you understand.
Perhaps last Tuesday?

*****************************

I started my day sprawled across Bobby’s chest as he lay in bed. His depression
was so strong, I’m surprised it didn’t generate a black bubble over his head.

I lay on his chest and purred at him until he began to rub my head. Licking his
face a few times netted me a reluctant laugh. Meanwhile, I was pushing so many
soothing thoughts at him he almost fell back asleep.

“Hey, cat,” he finally said.

“Mrow,” I replied. Most humans can understand rudimentary Cat, or at least they
would if they tried.

“Yeah, life does suck, you’re right,” Bobby said. Well, he obviously *wasn’t*
trying to understand me.

“Mrow *mrow*.”

“It’s just that I feel like such a doofus compared to everyone else around here.
I’m just the dumb kid brother that they have to take care of.”

I hissed, and he looked strangely at me. I blinked slowly at him and sent more
soothing thoughts. He relaxed a little bit and scratched under my chin.

“How will I ever be as good at controlling my powers as they are?”

I slowly shifted my soothing thoughts to those of confidence. After I allowed
him some time to think, I prodded his attention back to me with a paw on his
chin.

“I guess I probably shouldn’t compare myself to people three or four years
older, should I?” he asked me.

“Mrow,” I said firmly.

He put me down on the bed beside him and reached for his workout clothes. “I
guess this means more time in the Danger Room.”

I licked the side of his face again and set off, content he was taken care of
for the day.

Then, I spent an enjoyable hour hunting the mansion grounds with Logan. Now,
there is a human with a good head on his shoulders and proper claws. I’m pleased
there is *someone* around here I can trust to take care of the children other
than me. I’ve been trying to help him clear out some of the interference in his
mind, although he is unusually resistant to both empathic and telepathic probes.

*******************************

After breakfast, I paused outside Peter’s room, but he was relaxed, so I didn’t
bother him.

However, Scott was already studying and worrying in the library. That child has
a severely overdeveloped sense of responsibility. Hard work is to be applauded,
but he takes it a bit too seriously.

The door was closed, but that is no deterrent to a determined cat.

I jumped onto the table, tail swishing with my annoyance, and settled firmly
onto the book Scott was trying to read. From the tenor of his emotions, I
suspect he was tempted to drop kick me out of his way.

So, I curled my tail and tucked my paws under my chin in a most appealing way,
sending cheerful thoughts to his scowling face. The scowl cleared a little, but
he still picked me up off the book and put me on the floor.

I didn’t get where I am today by being deterred by an amateur move like that. Of
course, I jumped back up and settled myself even more firmly on the book. He was
going to tell me what was bothering him, even if it took all day. (You’re right,
I *could* just read what’s bothering them in their minds, but they are more
likely to notice that. For some reason, humans rarely notice when you tamper
with their emotions, just their thoughts.)

“Cat, what’s wrong with you?” Scott finally asked. “I’m trying to get some work
done.”

“Mrow?” I asked.

“Look, if you leave me alone, I can get an hour’s worth of research done before
my first scheduled practice.”

I stood up and rubbed my head against his cheek. He flinched when I neared the
edge of his glasses, and I soothed him. The poor thing is so terrified of
knocking his glasses askew, I can’t remember the last time I saw him hug
someone. I made a mental note to work on that. Of course, he has a number of
issues to deal with before regular human contact will be easy for him.

“C’mon, give me a break,” he said, leaning forward to get a grip on me, “I can’t
get behind in my work, I’ve got too much to do.”

I lifted my head until we were eye to eye and said, slowly, so he couldn’t
mistake my meaning: “Mrow.”

His eyebrows lifted above his glasses and he leaned back in his chair, a curious
feel to his mind. “You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”

“Mrow.”

“I should know better than to argue with a cat.”

“*Mrow*.”

Scott clasped his hands behind his head and stared off over my head. I prodded
gently at his mind. “You don’t know what it’s like being the leader,” he said
absently. “What if I fail them?”

I sat with Scott for over an hour while he worried about leadership and failure
and trust. I did what I could to reassure him, but he will require a great deal
more work.

I was wearied after working on Scott, so I took a nap in the living room. After
all, these days I patrol the grounds for most of the evening. I won’t be caught
napping again by any two-bit soldiers.

************************************

I didn’t have to find my next job, because she found me. My nap was interrupted
by Ororo, who dropped down on the couch next to me and stroked my back. I
forgave her for waking me up, because she’s *very* good at that. After a few
moments, I felt her worrying away at something, so I crawled into her lap, and
kneaded away at her chest a few times.

“Hey, don’t stick your claws in me,” she said, pulling my paws away. I
stretched, turned around once and settled down with my head against her stomach.
I could feel her sigh reverberate in my head.

I purred. She sighed. She was almost ready to tell me what was wrong, when the
door opened. I could smell Jean even before she asked, “Have you seen Hank?”

Ororo rolled her eyes, angry over something. “No, I haven’t. Believe it or not,
I’m not his keeper.”

Jean was confused. “Um, sorry, I just thought you might’ve seen him. Never
mind.” The door closed behind her with a small bang.

Ororo leaned back on the couch, and I thought reproachful thoughts at her until
she grimaced. “Okay, I guess that wasn’t nice of me, but I don’t feel like being
nice. Especially not to Ms. Jean ‘I’m So Perfect’ Grey.”

She’d stopped petting me, so I put my head under her hand. She looked down.
“Boy, I wish I had your easy life. Eat, nap, have people rub my head.”

Hmmph. After all the work Logan and I put in retrieving them from Weapon X. I
nipped her hand and she jumped. “Mrow,” I said.

“What was that for? Geez. Darn ungrateful cat.”

I settled back down on her lap and rubbed my head against her chest, trying to
calm her back down so she would tell me what she was worrying about.

“It’s just this thing with Hank,” she burst out after a few minutes. “I’m
worried that one day he’ll wake up and realize he can’t date me anymore.”

I projected curiosity. This was interesting, especially since Hank spent half an
hour yesterday explaining how Ororo couldn’t possibly want to date him, because
he was ugly.

“I mean, he’s such a wonderful smart guy. And, well, I’m just an uneducated
bitchy car thief.”

Nonsense. She attends this school, she can hardly be considered uneducated. As
for bitchy…well, we can’t all be perfect. I tried to project my disagreement,
but I don’t think it reached her.

I made a mental note that Ororo would need a reminder of her quite formidable
(if not entirely classically-trained) intelligence, and left after she shared
part of her lunch with me. (The school could use more tuna, by the by. I don’t
get to eat it nearly often enough.)

I prowled around the mansion for the rest of the afternoon without encountering
any serious problems.

Peter has been rather cheerful lately, well, as cheerful as Russians allow
themselves to be. I have high hopes for him, since he seems to be the most
emotionally stable of the bunch. Not what you would expect from a teenager
wrestling with an unpopular sexual preference, but apparently he finds that less
stressful than being a mutant.

Jean was a little depressed, but not enough to warrant my interference. She
requires a great deal more finesse, since she’s more likely than the others to
notice my actions. So, I only work on her when absolutely necessary. A little
angst over why Ororo was annoyed with her didn’t strike me as absolutely
necessary.

**************************************

And of course, you know the rest, because I spent the evening with you.

Now, listen carefully, Professor Xavier. These children are going to be very
important, and I’ve been sent here to oversee their health and safety. You will
*not* be allowed to endanger them as you have previously.

Who sent me here? Well, that’s a story for another day, I think.

–end–

by Mara

Summary: What happens when the laws of physics meet the Marvel Universe?

NOTES: This story began when Avi looked at a picture of Bobby Drake. After a
short discussion of physics, we hashed out this plot (such as it is). Thanks to
Askani’daughter for the beta and giving me my snarky ending.

***********************

“The Fantastic Four *finally* show up for an annual picnic,” Scott Summers said
to Johnny Storm, also known as the Human Torch.

Johnny laughed. “Well, we’re glad to be in town this year, and I’m ready to
relax. If any supervillains show up, they’re all yours.”

Scott grinned at him, and waved him toward the party.

Most of the X-Men, a few Avengers, and a couple of stray X-Factor folk were
lounging around the X-Mansion back yard, engaged in various summer picnic-
related activities.

Johnny found an empty seat and watched Franklin, Artie, and Leech play a
complicated game involving empty soda cans, two balls, one paddle, and the prone
body of Cable, who had apparently agreed to play dead for them.

Bobby finished making ice for the sodas and came over to sit next to him. “How’s
it going, Icecube?” Johnny asked.

“Not bad, Sparky,” Bobby said. “So, how would you like to torment our
unsuspecting teammates today?”

They exchanged nearly identical evil grins and everyone nearby groaned. The two
pranksters tiptoed away to make some plans.

After an incident involving Logan’s towel and Rogue’s sunscreen, Bobby and
Johnny found themselves perched in a tree overlooking the backyard, waiting for
their victims to calm down.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Bobby said, “let’s see whose powers are stronger.”

“How?” Johnny asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bobby looked around for a suitable test. “See that bucket of water over there
behind Domino? You heat it with your plasma and I’ll freeze it.”

Johnny nodded, and the two bent their minds on the hapless bucket of water.
After a full minute of concentration, Johnny blinked. “Um, Bobby, shouldn’t
something be happening by now?”

“Yeah, I guess we can stop.” Bobby frowned at the recalcitrant bucket and then
looked at Hank’s drink, which immediately froze solid. “Huh, my powers are
working fine.”

At that moment, Hank picked up his drink and stared at it. “Bobby!” he called,
with resignation.

Johnny concentrated and a small flame hovered over Hank’s drink, melting it
quickly. Hank nearly dropped the glass, before carefully setting it down to
finish melting. “My powers are working fine, too,” Johnny said, “I wonder what
happened with the bucket. Let’s go ask Hank. If he’s speaking to us, that is.”

After a quick detour around the pool (chased by a shovel wielded telekinetically
by Betsy), they explained the situation to Hank.

“Well,” he said with a frown, “It’s possible your powers are so equally matched
they cancel each other out. But that seems unlikely.” He started to mutter.

“Uh oh,” Bobby said, backing away, “we’ve revved up the scientific genius. Maybe
if we leave quickly, he won’t notice we’re gone.”

Hank looked up. “You’re not getting away that fast. Just give me fifteen minutes
in the lab to get some readings.” They groaned and followed him inside.

Released from the lab later, Bobby and Johnny went back to enjoying themselves.
They became engrossed in a game of volleyball, and had forgotten their
scientific mystery by the time the party was breaking up.

The sun was setting, mosquitoes were emerging, and the guests were preparing to
leave, when Hank emerged from his lab with a dazed look on his face.

“Hey, buddy, you weren’t supposed to stay down there all day,” Bobby said.

Hank just shook his head and looked around. “Is Scott here?” He looked at the
Richards and Johnny Storm. “Please stay a few moments, I have interesting news.”

By the time Scott arrived, most of the remaining guests had come to hear Hank’s
news, and the hall was almost full. Scott pushed his way through to the
oblivious Hank, who was looking strangely at Bobby and Johnny.

Before Scott could open his mouth, Bobby said, “I didn’t do anything Scott,
really.”

Most of the crowd cracked up at that, and Hank waited for the laughter to end.
“No Bobby, you and Johnny didn’t do anything wrong. Just…fascinating. I wanted
Scott and Reed here so I could explain to both team leaders at the same time.”

Scott and Reed exchanged confused looks. Hank continued, “This afternoon, Bobby
and Johnny showed me that their powers appeared to cancel each other out.”

Reed said, “But that’s-”

“I know, Reed, that’s why I went to my lab to investigate. The answer lies in
the laws of thermodynamics. Specifically, the rules regarding the conservation
of energy.”

Reed went a little pale and his mouth opened and closed. Everyone else just
looked curious, confused, or annoyed.

“You see,” Hank said, “I’ve never really investigated how Bobby’s abilities as
Iceman work. But the laws of physics state that matter and energy cannot be
created or destroyed, simply changed. So, when Bobby turns the water in the air
to ice, he is drawing energy out of the water to slow its molecules. Where does
the energy go?”

By this point, most people had turned to look at Johnny Storm, who was holding
onto a banister like it might run away from him.

Hank concluded, “Apparently Bobby draws the energy off the water, and places it
in some kind of a pocket universe, where Johnny subsequently draws it out. When
they were trying to affect the same object, the power put in by Bobby balanced
out the energy Johnny pulled and nothing happened. This will require further
study.”

The crowd looked delighted at the thought of the two pranksters trapped in a lab
with Reed Richards and Hank McCoy. Bobby and Johnny just looked scared as they
were dragged off. Sue Richards trailed behind the group, and she could be heard
plaintively asking her husband if maybe he couldn’t put this research off until
next week.

Scott turned to the remaining crowd with a sad shake of his head. “And here I
thought Hank had found something interesting about the two of them.”

Jean wrinkled her nose at him. “I thought that was interesting. What were you
expecting?”

“That he thought Bobby and Johnny were my children from the future and had time
traveled back to save us from some sort of inevitable destruction by a powerful
supervillain.”

A hush fell, and Scott looked around. “What? You act like it’s never happened to
me before.”

–end–

by Mara

Summary: “She has a lot to think about, and her mind won’t stop spinning.”

NOTES: This was written for the “We Invented the Remix…Redux” challenge, in
which I remixed bounce’s “An Impossibility”, which can be found on her site at
her site. As with bounce’s original, this story takes place around New X-Men
126(ish), basically the end of the “Imperial” storyline. Gigantic thanks to the
fantabulous Victoria P. for organizing the challenge.

* * * * *

She should be sleeping.

Jean glares at the clock as it registers 4:59 AM. She’s been awake much of the
night, and now the minutes seem to be passing even more slowly.

She has a lot to think about, and her mind won’t stop spinning. So much has
happened.

She did the impossible a week ago. But then again, she and Scott are X-Men: they
do six impossible things before breakfast…and that’s on a slow day. She should
be used to snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, as well as the other way
around. She should be used to the impossible. After all, just months before, the
man lying next to her died.

A small sigh from Scott catches her attention, and she carefully rolls over to
watch him sleep. She should be ecstatic to see him lying beside her, breathing
and alive, but her ambivalence is a cold knot around her heart, tightening
imperceptibly with every passing day.

He’s back. Except that he’s not. Not really. The figure in bed beside her wears
Scott’s face, laughs his laugh, has the same freckles in places she won’t
describe, makes the same mess when he tries to twirl pasta on his fork–but
somehow it’s not him.

It’s as if he’s only Scott skin deep, and beneath that is cold and emptiness.

Jean knows that she could make it better. The Phoenix energy within her would
make it so easy, she could just reach in and tweak a bit here, twist a little
there, take away all the bad memories and thoughts and everything would seem
right as rain. Except that nobody would ever trust her again, they’d hate her.
Especially Scott.

To distract herself, she reaches out to the other minds in the mansion.

The Professor is walking the halls, astonished and happy to be back in his home
with legs healed and working, but he is crippled by the guilt of the past days’
(could it be only days?) events. The idea that he tried to kill his sister while
they were still in the womb is practically inconceivable, and his mind is
twisting in an attempt to encompass the enormity of his crime.

He doesn’t even realize she is in his mind. Disturbed by this fact and faintly
guilty, she slips away again.

Skipping gently across the minds of several students–one dreaming about sex,
one about her parents’ divorce, and one having a nightmare about missing an
exam–she alights on Emma’s mind. A butterfly touch and she is nearly blown away
by the pain and grief, a hammer blow to her mind.

The blow isn’t even aimed at her, just at the world in general, but Jean reels
back, afraid to get any nearer to Emma as the other woman remembers all the dead
of Genosha.

She pulls away, unwilling to intrude on a grief more profound than hers.

Barnell is half-asleep, in that state where your mind conjures images and
partial dreams. Cassandra Nova looms like a funhouse clown over his head as he
cowers and begs her to stop.

Jean feels tears running down her cheek as the dream Barnell beats Hank over and
over again, until there isn’t an inch of him uninjured. Barnell sobs as he
pounds away, guilty even though he couldn’t have prevented what happened.

Her leap away from Barnell’s guilt sends her plowing into the edges of Xorn’s
mind and she recoils from the power, the inferno that is the only person whose
mental powers rival hers at the moment. The Phoenix stirs in the back of her
mind, restless, eager to challenge Xorn, see who’s stronger, but she pushes it
down.

She draws back into her own mind, saddened by the realization that there isn’t
anyone in the mansion who isn’t hurting, isn’t damaged in one way or another.
Years ago, she learned how to block it out, how to ignore the pain around her,
but those walls are breached and crumbling under the onslaught.

It’s harder tonight than is normal, because a week ago she did the impossible.
She split Xavier’s mind into a thousand, thousand pieces, and stuck them back
together again. It should have been impossible, but she did it. She did it.

She rolls back to face the clock and it ticks away a few more seconds, a few
seconds closer to time for her to get up and move on as if everything were
normal. Closer to pretending everything is fine.

Still sleeping, Scott rolls closer to her.

Jean cries and tries to ignore the feel of a dead man’s breath on her skin.

* * * * *

Remixer’s end notes: I specifically chose to keep bounce’s first and last lines
intact as a frame to my remix, and I hope I kept the spirit of what she was
trying to convey about Jean at this point in her life.

by Mara

Summary: When Wraith is away, the guards of Weapon X will play.

by Mara

Summary: Stuck inside during a snowstorm, the residents of the Ultimate X-Mansion talk.

CONTINUITY: Whenever you like .
NOTES: Readers of my Enterprise fic will see a resemblance to my story “Making
History.” I happen to like this format. So sue me. Thanks for the beta to
Captain Average, the superhero who encourages. Please note that Azurine did a
splendid remix of this story for the “We Invented the Remix…Redux” challenge.
You can find it here .

* * * * *

It wasn’t often the X-Men had nothing to do. If they weren’t being chased by
mutant-hunting Sentinels, or captured by rogue arms of the government, then
Professor Xavier had them doing some sort of team-building exercise.

But it was the middle of the worst snowstorm to hit the East Coast in a decade,
even the Sentinels and government agents had apparently decided to stay home
where it was warm, and the Professor was off in Washington sucking up to the
President.

Now, under normal circumstance, the members of the team would spend their
precious free time as far away from the others as possible. But something about
the immensity of the snow outside drew them together, and they all gravitated
into the living room.

Jean lit a fire and Hank cleared newspapers off the coffee table when Ororo and
Bobby came in from outside, where they’d been enjoying the weather. Peter
entered moments later, carrying a tray of cocoa and cookies, followed by Scott
holding mugs and spoons.

Hank drew Ororo onto the loveseat, as Peter settled down on the floor in front
of the fire with a sigh, and Bobby sprawled untidily in a chair. Jean tossed
Peter a few extra pillows off the couch and sat down next to Scott, pulling a
heavy chenille throw over herself.

The room was quiet as the young mutants distributed mugs, cocoa, and cookies;
clinking spoons, whooshing whipped cream, and the crunch of masticated chocolate
chips gave the room a friendly air it often lacked.

A rush of wind swirled past the French doors, making them rattle, and Jean
shivered, pulling the blanket closer around her shoulders.

“Before anyone asks,” Ororo said as she stretched out, dangling her legs over
the side of the loveseat, “no, I can’t do anything about this storm. Well, I
could, but for all I know, it would cause a drought in Bangladesh.” She leaned
against Hank, a healthy glow on her cheeks from the snowball fight she and Bobby
had engaged in.

“Well, I like it,” Bobby said.

Peter laughed. “You would. At least you have left the ice outside today.”

“I like it, too,” Scott said. “Sometimes it’s nice to have a little enforced
rest.”

“I agree,” Jean said, popping marshmallows into her cocoa and watching them melt
into mush.

Ororo had just opened her mouth when a voice from the doorway startled everyone.
“Well, isn’t this just charming,” Logan said, his muscular frame making the
doorway look narrower.

“Join us,” Jean said. One or two other faces briefly looked less than thrilled
at the prospect, but they managed to stifle that for the sake of politeness.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Logan said, slouching over to sit on the couch next to
Jean. He frowned at the coffee table, which normally he would prop his feet on,
but was now covered in snacks.

Jean smiled in amusement at his dilemma and offered him a mug. “Cocoa?”

“Um, no thanks.” Now that he’d made his point by staking out a seat next to
Jean, he wasn’t quite certain what to do with himself.

Jean handed Logan a cookie and wafted a few over to Hank when he held up his
hand.

There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence, before another huge gust of
wind slammed into the mansion. Doors and windows rattled and snow pellets hissed
against the glass like tiny bits of ammunition.

The noise made them jump, then look slightly ashamed. Scott said, “That’s us,
the big bad dangerous mutants, afraid of the wind.” Everyone laughed and relaxed
a bit.

“So, when is the Professor returning?” Peter asked.

“When I spoke to him this morning,” Jean said, “he said he would wait out the
storm in Washington and take the opportunity to visit a few more Senators.”

“Brainwash, you mean,” Ororo muttered, almost immediately looking sorry for
having said it.

“If that’s what it takes,” Jean snapped at her. Scott put his hand gently on her
arm and the redhead subsided. “Never mind. Sorry. Just feeling a little
claustrophobic in the house.”

“The storm will be over in another 24 hours, I think,” Ororo said in oblique
apology, and everyone relaxed again.

“Will we ever get normal lives?” Bobby asked suddenly. Everyone turned to look
at him and he blushed, fiddling with his spoon and mug. “I was just sitting here
thinking…I mean, I’ve never even had a girlfriend.”

Jean and Hank looked uncomfortable, but didn’t speak. Bobby didn’t notice. He
continued, “I didn’t ask to become an X-Man, and I wanted to know if any of you
thought we’d ever get to leave.”

“No,” Logan said, and all eyes switched to looking at him. He returned each look
with defiance. “Nobody ever gets to leave this kind of life. Once you’re in,
you’re in. No point in my tryin’ to sugarcoat it.”

Scott looked like he was about to argue when Bobby interrupted him. “But what if
the humans accept us? I mean, if the Prof gets his bill passed and if humans
don’t hate us, then we won’t need the X-Men, right?”

Logan muttered something, and Scott answered Bobby. “I think that’s a lot of
ifs.”

“But isn’t that what we’re trying to do?”

“Well, yes,” Scott said, “but it’s not going to happen overnight.”

Bobby looked at him, then around the room at the others. “You don’t really think
it’s going to work, do you?”

“Now, Bobby-” Scott started.

“All this stuff we do and none of you really think the homo saps are going to
let us be.”

“I do,” Scott said simply. “I have to believe it or I’d go crazy.”

“Same here,” Jean said.

“I agree.” Hank spoke up. “The famous anthropologist Margaret Mead once said,
‘Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the
world. Indeed it’s the only thing that ever has.’”

“Do you really believe that?” Ororo asked, twisting her head to look up at Hank.
“You really think the humans are gonna decide they’re tired of trying to kill
us?”

“Yes,” he said. “As my bespectacled colleague has so admirably put it…if I did
not believe it, I’d have to go insane.”

Logan smirked at him. “And who says you aren’t?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Har-dee fucking har har. If you think our odds are that
bad, why don’t you just take off and go be a pain in the ass somewhere else?”

The silence that fell as the two men stared at each other over Jean’s head was
so deafening, it almost drowned out the hissing of the snowstorm.

Logan considered his answer and nobody was inclined to interrupt. “Because I
don’t have anywhere else to go,” he said, just as the pause became intolerable.
“And even if this doesn’t have a chance, it’s still a hell of a lot better than
any of the other options.”

Scott nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Everyone relaxed, the minor testosterone spat apparently over. Cookies continued
to be eaten, the hot cocoa was quietly decimated, and peace reigned.

“We’ll be okay if we can work together,” Scott said, and everyone looked at him.
“That’s what’s been going wrong. We keep splitting into little factions,
splitting and reforming. That’ll get us killed if we keep it up.”

“Mindless obedience isn’t too likely in a group like this,” Hank said with a
slight smile.

Scott slammed his mug onto the coffee table. “I’m not looking for mindless
anything. I’m looking for teamwork, maybe a little understanding of when’s a
good time to argue and when isn’t. You know, we’ve been through a lot of crap
together. Doesn’t that buy me *any* slack around here?”

Most of the faces held guilty expressions.

“Scott is correct,” Peter said from the floor, just as Logan said, “He’s right.”

There was a brief flurry as heads whipped back and forth from watching Scott’s
jaw drop to watching Logan to see if he was kidding. Apparently, he wasn’t.

He also wasn’t going to expand on his comment, so Scott kept going. “You think I
don’t know what most of you think of me? Anal-retentive Cyclops, always riding
your ass, no sense of humor. You think I’m doing it ’cause that’s how I get my
kicks?”

Scott looked at each of them in turn. Hank and Peter looked back with
equanimity, but Jean stared into her cocoa. Ororo crossed her arms and frowned,
while Bobby looked like a kid whose parents were fighting. Logan stared out the
window, but he was obviously listening.

“I’m trying to keep you alive. I’m not perfect, but I’m doing the best I can.
Just work with me, that’s all I’m asking.”

Logan turned slowly away from the window to look at Scott. His nod was almost
imperceptible, but it was enough. Around the room, heads nodded, then the
various members of the X-Men relaxed in their seats, watching the fire or the
slowing storm through the windows.

“We’ll be okay,” Scott said quietly.

“What if we’re not?” Bobby asked.

“Then we’ll figure something out. We’ve done pretty well so far, and it hasn’t
exactly been a cakewalk.” Scott looked around the room. “I know this isn’t the
group any of us would have chosen, but that’s not how it works. We got the X-
gene. We got the mutations powerful enough to make a difference. Either we do
something about it, or we give up and let the Sentinels kill us.”

Hank smiled at him. “‘We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang
separately.’ Benjamin Franklin said that at the signing of the Declaration of
Independence.”

“Exactly.”

The room was quiet, everyone lost in their own thoughts. Naturally, Ororo was
the first to notice the change, and her brow wrinkled as she concentrated.

“The storm is slowing down,” she said with authority. “It’ll definitely be done
by the morning.”

“Will it warm up enough for things to melt?” Scott asked.

She eyed him for a long moment, face solemn, before she answered. “What do I
look like…the weather girl?”

There was a beat of silence, then laughter rolled across the room, sweeping
before it all the tension that had built up during their serious discussion. For
just a moment, the X-Men were united, in purpose and in laughter.

–end–

by Mara

Summary: Bobby finds out about Emma and Scott. (This is an AU of New X-Men 139, “Shattered,” the first part to the Murder in the Mansion story line.)

NOTES: This was written for the Remix Redux Challenge and it is a remix of
Cherry Ice’s story “Spent Casings.” You can find the original at
www.doyourthing.org/cherry/xm/casings.htm. I didn’t much like where Morrison
went with New X-Men, so I was pleased to take this opportunity to rewrite a
small part of it.

* * * * *

Emma wondered if Bobby would hit her. It wasn’t likely, really, he was too
fundamentally a “nice” guy, even in these straitened circumstances. She wondered
idly how hard she’d have to push him before he’d do it. And what would happen to
him afterward.

“Are you even listening to me?” he growled, leaning against the wall of her
bedroom.

She inspected her boots for bloodstains. “Yes, I am. You were asking me what the
fuck I was doing.”

“And you weren’t answering.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

There was a long silence and she took the opportunity to check herself in the
mirror. It was one thing to enjoy a good catfight with one’s rival, but to
remain disheveled afterward was severely déclassé.

Of course, Bobby would likely point out that sleeping with a married man was
tacky, but he couldn’t possibly understand how her world worked, could he?

The drop of blood at the corner of her mouth she carefully dabbed away, sensing
Bobby’s reluctant desire as he watched. A small smile graced her lips at her
ability to arouse him even at a time like this. Of course, that was really so
typical of the male mind, wasn’t it? Think of your woman with another man…want
to have sex with your woman.

Not that she was his woman, but in the primitive male mind, she knew that
thought lurked.

“Scott. You’re really–”

“Yes.”

“Scott-fucking-Summers.”

“Can’t pull the wool over your eyes, now can I?” She picked up a silver-backed
brush and began to run it through her hair. It tugged out several clumps,
loosened by her recent altercation, but she hardly noticed. If only it was that
easy–

“Why?”

She considered her reflection for a long moment, watching Bobby’s face in the
mirror. “Because I can,” she said after a while.

He sat down on the bed, looking amusingly like a guppy, mouth gaping and
wheezing a bit. “Because you can? You’re having sex with Scott Summers because
you can.”

“Yes.”

He threw himself backward on the bed, covering his face with his hands. “I can’t
fucking believe it.”

“Such language, darling.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’ve already done that. In fact, you’d like to do it again. You’d take me
right now, if I’d let you. Up against the wall, so you could prove something.
You want to sit across the table from him this evening and know you had me
screaming.”

He shook his head, not in denial of her statement, but in dismissal of it as
irrelevant. “Why did you start the fight with Jean?”

“I didn’t–”

“Don’t give me that shit. You won. You had him, she didn’t. Why piss off Jean
until she jumped on you? Why whisper those little dirty secrets into her mind
until she lost it? I didn’t know you were that vindictive.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because you’d already won.”

“Had I?” She put her hair up, patting a few errant strands into place absently.
“What had I won?”

“Scott.”

She turned around, automatically noting his tensed muscles as he sat on her bed.
“What makes you think I wanted Scott?”

His jaw dropped again. “Wha…”

“Do close your mouth, or you’re going to catch flies. My mother always said
that.” Emma went to the closet as she tried to decide whether to change her
outfit. One advantage of wearing so little: There wasn’t much to damage, even in
a fight.

“If you didn’t want Scott…”

“Hmm?” She decided to leave her outfit as it was, just adding her diamond studs.
“Oh, the same reason I started the fight with Jean. Curiosity.”

This time he didn’t even ask, just waited for her to explain, and she bestowed a
smile and laugh on him. He didn’t smile back. “I wanted to see if they could
hurt me, of course. Don’t you see, nothing can hurt me now.”

His blue eyes grew wide and she laughed again. “Nothing can hurt me because
there’s nothing left to hurt.”

Humming, she went back to contemplating her image in the mirror.

–end–

by Mara

Summary: What happens when Scott and Madelyne meet? (Story #3 in the roundrobin)

NOTES/DEDICATION: This is a sequel to Minisinoo’s “The Goose Who Laid the
Golden Egg.” It happens before Dyce’s “What’s Good for the Goose is Good for
the Gander” because Dyce writes faster than I do and I had to spend the evening
at the in-law’s I hope you enjoy this, because I missed my stop on the train
this evening because I was writing it.

**Telepathy**

****************************

I didn’t know where the guards were taking me, and I was pretty damn scared. For
all I knew I was going to come back blue like Hank (Jesus, poor Hank) or half-
dead like Wolverine. ‘Course, I was playing it cool, trying to look unworried. I
doubt I was fooling anyone, but it made me feel a little better. I guess we do
whatever we need to do to survive.

Anyway, I was expecting all kinds of things, torture devices, a mad scientist’s
laboratory, the seventh circle of hell. I was *not* expecting to see Jean.

Goon number one slammed me up against the blue-tiled wall as number two opened
the door and then tossed me in.

“Hello, Scott,” she said as I stood up.

I leaned up against the other side of the door and stared at her. “Jean, what
the hell is going on? You were in your cell with Nightcrawler a minute ago. When
did you have time to change clothing?”

“I’m not Jean.”

I’d been prepared for torture, but this crap was just too much. “What the hell?
Either you’re a shapeshifter or that’s the fastest brainwashing I’ve ever seen,
of course you’re Jean. Now snap out of it and tell me what the hell we’re doing
in…”

Okay, I’ll admit it. I hadn’t looked around the room yet. Obviously a few weeks
with these bozos and a knock on the head had caused all my training to seep out
my ears. But even the horrible things we’d done and seen in those weeks were
*no* excuse for my not noticing I was in a bedroom. With a bed. With fucking
flowered sheets. Great, now I was sounding like Logan.

She looked amused in a sad and strained sort of way. “What we’re doing in my
bedroom? I’m really not Jean, Scott. The faster you understand this, the easier
things will be.”

I slid down slowly to the floor, keeping my eyes carefully on Jean, who’d
obviously gone insane in the minutes since I’d left her. She sat down in an
armchair and ran her fingers through her short red hair. A few pieces drifted
down, as if it had been recently cut.

“You know, maybe he was right. Maybe I could have fooled you into thinking I was
Jean long enough. Maybe not.”

It had taken awhile, but my brain was back in gear. I caught the important
words. “Long enough for what?”

She paused, and my brain ran through the torture options again.

“Long enough for us to have sex and get me pregnant.”

That was really the straw that broke the camel’s back. I sputtered. I hadn’t
actually understood that word until then. “Sex…preg…wha…you…”

“I am *not* Jean. My name is Madelyne Pryor. I think I’m her clone. Don’t ask me
how that happened since Dr. Essex hasn’t told me.” Her tone sharpened on the
last few words, and she winced. That told me this doctor was likely to be
listening in. Or watching. Hell.

It also told me she wasn’t Jean. I’d never seen Jean look like that, so
resigned, even in the worst circumstances. And we’d *been* in the worst
circumstances, and this wasn’t it. Yet.

Then the content of what she’d said sank in. “Her clone? Why the hell am I
supposed to get Jean’s clone pregnant?”

She looked relieved that I finally seemed to believe her. “Dr Essex…well,
let’s just say our baby will be an extraordinarily talented mutant. Maybe more
so than my others. I don’t really know.”

The blows just kept coming. “Others?” I asked, trying to not imagine what the
Weapon X bastards might do with mutant babies.

“Yes.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but was afraid to. Hmm, if she
was really Jean’s clone…

I reached out with my mind, the way the Professor taught me. **Tell me.**

“No!” She yelled, jumping out of the chair and throwing up her hands as if to
ward off my thoughts. I stayed very still, trying not to alarm her further.
“No,” she said again, quieter this time, “I’m not allowed. I get in trouble if
I do that. Please.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She was shaking, just a little. I tried to look as non-threatening as I could.
She wrapped her arms around her stomach and slowly moved back to the chair.

“Can we just get on with this?” she asked, as if requesting a routine physical
exam.

“Just like that?” I hadn’t even had time to process everything. Jesus H. Christ,
I’d certainly lusted after Jean’s body, I just thought it would come attached to
her brain.

“If we don’t, Dr. Essex will do it for us,” she said, looking even more unhappy
at that prospect. “That’s uncomfortable. I am most fertile today and tomorrow.”

Damn, it was all so tempting. To have a Jean of my own. Ready and willing to
sleep with me instead of the Wolverine. I wondered if this Essex knew that or if
he’d just gotten lucky.

“Look, Madelyne, it’s not that I don’t find you attractive, because I do, but I
don’t quite know what to do here.” Shit, now I was babbling.

Her look was pitying. “Haven’t you learned? You don’t have much of a choice.
Either we have sex or the samples are taken from us the hard way. That’s it.”

Damn it, there’s always a choice, even if she’d been stuck in this lab so long
she didn’t see it. Oh my god, was she *born* here? Stop thinking about that and
find a way out. Why couldn’t I think of anything? All the plans I’d been
confidently planning and not *one* dealt with the possibility of Jean’s clone
telling me to have sex with her. I hadn’t planned for Armageddon or Ragnarok
either.

Madelyne moved over to the bed. She looked so much like Jean, I couldn’t stand
it.

Slowly, I stood up and walked towards her. I wanted to cry at the hint of fear
in her eyes. I wanted to shout. I wanted to destroy things.

I wanted to wring Dr. Essex’s neck.

I vowed that when we left this place, if we couldn’t take her with us, we would
come back for her as well as her baby. My baby.

I sat carefully on the bed next to her. Her face was blank now. I felt like I
was about to rape her, but what else could I do? If we had to do this, at least
I could try and make it pleasant.

She’s not Jean. I wish to hell I knew who she really was. I wish I had time to
find out.

–end–

by Mara

Summary: Scott wants to go find Madelyne and his child, but he’s got to go through Ororo first. (Story #9)

NOTES: This takes place at more or less the same time as Sascha’s “Wild Goose
Chase.” Sorry if this is a bit long, but Scott and Ororo would *not* shut up,
and they refused to think in a linear fashion. Thanks to David Ellis for the
beta and help on Ultimate Ororo. Thanks also to my husband, who patiently put up
with me muttering to myself about this story for most of a three hour car ride.
(“Is Kurt with them?” “What?” “Oh, sorry, nothing…”)

**********************************

I’m not really that fond of deserts, as a rule. They’re either too hot or too
cold, they’re not very visually exciting (especially for someone who only sees
in shades of red), and they’re really, really dry. What can I say? I get thirsty
easily.

However, I was willing to make an exception for one particular stretch of desert
in southern Arizona near the Mexican border. It had some nice saguaros (those
big cacti you always see in cartoons), an abandoned building big enough to fit a
bunch of escaped superhero types, and it was far away from the Weapon X project
and our usual New York haunts.

Everyone needed a rest, and Jean needed to stay put long enough to try and help
the Professor. And I needed everyone to stay put so *I* could take off for a
while.

We’d been in Arizona for a few days, and everyone was gathering in the living
room. Well, everyone but Hank, who was patrolling. That’s when I brought up the
issue that had been plaguing my mind since we’d escaped.

“I’m going after Madelyne,” I said, turning away from the dingy window. The
others stared at me in a mix of dismay, confusion, and anger. Kurt, our new
recruit, was mainly confused. Jean had picked up German pretty easily, but she
was having trouble putting English in his mind.

“No way,” Jean said, stepping out of the bedroom where we kept the Professor.
“We don’t have time for this. We’re running away from an incredibly powerful,
well-armed, and well-connected branch of the government, remember?”

“I know that, and she’s running away from the same people.”

“Which is exactly why you should stay away. If they’ve found her, then they’ll
find us.” Jean’s voice rose and Logan put his arm around her shoulders. She
leaned into him. The small part of me that wasn’t worrying about Madelyne and my
child was surprised to find how little that bothered me.

“If they’ve found her, then I’ll have to get her out again. I wasn’t asking for
help or anyone’s permission, I was telling you. I will not let those bastards
have her *or* my child. End of story.”

Everyone but Logan looked embarrassed to witness our argument. Well, the
Professor just looked unconscious. I ruthlessly smothered my twinge of guilt at
leaving him in this condition. I couldn’t drag them all with me to find
Madelyne, but I had to find her soon.

Jean clenched her fists. “You’re the one that told us to stick together, leader-
boy. Changing your mind? Tired of taking care of us? Worried your new girlfriend
might get rid of your inconvenient baby?”

“That’s enough,” Ororo said, and Jean and I both glared at her. “If you two want
to act like children, take it outside and slap each other silly for all I care.
But if you’re our leaders, then fucking well act like them.”

Damn, I hate when she’s right.

I swallowed my rising anger, reminding myself that Jean had also been through
hell in these past months. We were all scared and on edge, worried about the
Professor and our future.

I eased down from my confrontational posture and sat down, hoping a change in
body language would cool things off. Jean leaned back into Logan’s arms, and
took a few deep meditative breaths. When she looked at me again, I could see
she’d calmed down.

“I’m sorry,” she said to me.

“I’m sorry, too.” I continued with my thoughts. “What I’m saying is, we’re as
safe as we’re going to get for the moment, and this is something I have to do. I
don’t know Madelyne’s exact location or condition, but I owe her the attempt.”

Ororo looked like she wanted to say something, but whatever it was she didn’t
want to say it in public. That was *not* a good sign. She tilted her head
slightly toward the door but I ignored her for the moment. “Look, I’m not
leaving this minute,” I said, “but I wanted to let you know what I’m planning as
soon as possible. I’m not running out on you, and I’ll be back.”

Then I got support from the absolute last place I’d ever expected. “You should
go,” Logan said. He didn’t quite look me in the eye. “If you don’t, you’ll
regret it.” Everyone stared at him. “Believe me, folks, we don’t want any kids
falling back into the hands of Weapon X.”

Silence fell as we all contemplated what Logan must have experienced in his time
there. For him to stick up for me, it had to be pretty bad.

“Thank you, Logan,” I said. Ororo looked impatient, so I wrapped up with, “We’ll
finish this discussion later,” and followed her out the front door, past the
short whip-like cacti Hank said were ocotillos.

She was waiting by the big rock in the yard, looking mysterious and dangerous. I
leaned against the rock and looked up at the setting sun.

“What’s up, ‘Ro? Are you going to tell me I shouldn’t go?” It was getting cold
fast, and my words floated out on puffs of steam.

“Not gonna tell you that, but your reasons for sticking together are as good now
as they were when we escaped. I *was* gonna tell you I think you’re running off
half-cocked here.”

“Jesus, what the hell do you expect me to do! I got everybody out, I got us
here, I’ve waited longer than I wanted already! I can’t do a damn thing for the
Professor except stand around and watch.”

She didn’t react at all, just watched me like I was a rat running through a
maze. “Sure, but I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”

My throat closed on a rush of emotion and I walked away, unwilling to let her
see. I’d unburdened myself to her once, on the way to India. That was a mistake.
I was the leader, I couldn’t stick my team-mates with all my problems. That’s
why I couldn’t tell her about Alex.

I could hear her walking behind me. “You need to decide what you want. And what
you can have.”

I stopped and turned, so suddenly she nearly ran me down. “I want my child.”

“Well, duh. But what about Madelyne? What’s she gonna be doing while you’re
playing Daddy?”

Damn it, she was right again. “I don’t know.”

“D’you think you’re gonna settle down with her? Get a house with a picket fence,
and have 2.5 mutant children?” She was up in my face.

“I told you, I don’t know!”

She was calm again. “Well, you’d better figure out some answers.” She took my
arm and dragged me back to the rock to sit on a convenient perch.

I looked up at the darkening sky and thought about Madelyne, a woman I’d only
known for a few hours. Some sort of animal howled in the distance. God, I hate
deserts. Give me the mean streets of a city any time.

I tried to articulate my thoughts. “She was so scared of Essex, and now she’s
out there running away from him. I don’t even know how much she knows about the
outside world, and she’s running. I feel sorry for her. I want to help her, do
what I can. Besides, she’s…” I stopped, unsure if I wanted anyone else to know
what I’d learned. Unsure if this was the right person to tell.

“She’s what?”

Hell, in for a penny, in for a pound. “She’s running away with Sabretooth. I
think.”

Ororo gasped and I could hear thunder in the distance. She had one fist shoved
against her mouth. Oh hell, bad choice, Summers. “‘Ro, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t
have said anything. I’m not even completely sure.”

She took a deep breath and seemed to force herself to relax. “Chill, ‘sokay. I
was just surprised. What makes you think she’s with him?”

Someday, Ororo and I were going to talk a little bit more about she’d been
through. Someday soon. I mentally regrouped.

“You know Logan and I have been gathering intelligence as we’ve traveled? I’ve
been keeping an eye out for news of her. Well, there’ve been some sightings up
North of a couple who could be Sabretooth and Madelyne.”

“But if you’ve heard…”

“…then Weapon X might have, too,” I said. “Grim thought, huh? On the bright
side, the kinda people who talk to us aren’t exactly gonna go out of their way
to talk to Weapon X. Besides, we made a hell of a mess on the way out. It’s
gonna take them some time to clean up. But it worries me. Besides being worried
about what the hell she’s doing with Sabretooth.”

I didn’t tell her about the *other* intelligence I’d gathered, about Alex. That
would have to wait. I’d just have to hope that Essex was too busy to go after
him.

“You’d better be more than worried, you’d better be thinking hard about what
you’re gonna do. ‘Cause if you think you’re gonna recruit Sabretooth, think
again.” Ororo practically spat his name.

“If we can take in Logan, why not Sabretooth?”

“It’s not the same,” Ororo said, her voice becoming angry and cold. I could feel
electricity building up around us. “And I didn’t exactly vote Logan into the
club, either. But there’s no way I’m gonna work with that overgrown cat
bastard.”

Well, I was in deep now, and I’d better talk fast if I didn’t want to get fried.

“What if he’s willing to help us take down the Weapon X project for good?”

“Why should he? He was helping those bastards, remember?” Her eyes were white,
and I could hear the thunder again.

“Then why would he be running off with Madelyne?” I said. She stared at me,
uncertain, her eyes shading back to their normal color. Aha, got her. “If
there’s hope for an assassin, a car thief, and an enforcer for the Russian
Mafia, maybe there’s hope for an ‘overgrown cat bastard.’”

“Scott, he…”

“I know.”

“You’re pretty damn good at changing the subject.”

“Yeah.”

“I could of killed you just now. And I might kill Sabretooth if you bring him
here.”

“I know.”

We sat in silence for a while and watched the sun drop lower. The air was so
clear, that even as dusk fell, we could see for miles. We could see the
individual trees on the mountains, the rows of saguaros that stretched all the
way there, and the light falling on the scrub and rocks.

“Is it a beautiful sunset?” I asked.

“Yeah, it is.”

“I’m going to leave in two days.” I tried to sound like a leader again.

Ororo stopped looking at the sunset. “Be careful, Scott.”

“I’m always careful. I was born careful.”

“You’re walking into a potential minefield, and you’re not taking backup,” she
said scornfully. “On what planet is that careful?”

“How do you know I’m not taking backup?”

She didn’t even justify that with an answer. “Just get your ass back here soon.
You may piss me off, but the team needs you. And think about what you’re doing,
or you’re gonna buy us a whole new world of trouble.”

“I will.” I jumped off the rock and headed back into the house to make my plans.
I needed to talk to Logan, he knew Canada a heck of a lot better than I did. And
Jean and I had to discuss where the team would go if they had to leave suddenly.
There was a lot to do before I left. But a little bird told me I had a chance to
find Madelyne and my child, and I wasn’t giving it up for anyone.